Release
by Dear Aunt Elladora
Summary: An aged, quiet piano rests in Malfoy Manor and Narcissa finds herself lost in it. Meanwhile, a Azkaban-bound Bellatrix keeps her sanity while another inmate taunts her.


The elder woman fell onto the piano bench promptly, sliding her hand down the dusty covering over the keys. At the tender side of middle age, Narcissa Black Malfoy was a gorgeous woman. Her nimble fingers pried underneath the cover, which slid back with a squeal that echoed into the empty hall. Narcissa took a deep breath, her chest rising beneath her liquid black robes, her hands neatly folded in her lap and her posture ram-rod perfect.

The clapping of expensive shoes to the cold floor of the Azkaban halls echoed through every prison cage. Bellatrix Black Lestrange inwardly rolled her eyes, for she was able to realize it was that blighter Cornelius Fudge, having come again for another visit.

The piano keys were the finest of ivory, pefectly aged over time. It had been ages since a ball when these keys were played, a gorgeous grand piano left useless. Slowly, tentavely, she raised a fingertip to brush middle C, then pressed down.

Fudge had these ritual visits, calling into cells amicably, as if the convicts we his long lost friends rather than those put their by his hand. Each cell was slowly slipping away toward insanity, if silence wasn't heard in response to Fudge's jovial words, then cries or screams were. That was, until he reached the two cells farthest from the entrance, deep into the depths of the prison. The darkest of darks.

The note wasn't out of tune, much to Narcissa's suprise. She placed her still-nimble fingers on the keys. Piano lessons were bestowed on her as a gift from Mummy and Daddy for their eldest daughter when she was nearing eight. At first, she depised the baby grand that was placed in the study, but then, after horrid fights with Bellatrix and awful things Andromeda wouldn't tell her but she knew, she'd find the keys. By the time she reached her tenth birthday, she was playing for hours at a time - all alone. It was her own quiet (that wasn't so quiet when she was shaken with anger) hobby.

Shells of people would occupy the cells on the walls, but those two on the end were some of the most frightening things. Azkaban sharpened Bella's hearing, and everytime, Fudge's clicking heels would stop short for a split second, then regain a slower pacing. He'd take breathes of preparation. Why were the two on the end so frightening? They held the sane ones, the withstanding two convicts who continued to live in a regulated world despite their surroundings. "Mrs. Lestrange." Fudge would address her, the farthest cell on the right side.

Narcissa's Hogwarts letter had arrived and she began school, a disasterously dark place. The Slytherin common room where she resided many an hour was much like home, the same children she'd been raised with. The right kind of kids from the right kind of families. Yet she got more quiet the more beautiful she became, and there was no piano to release her emotions on. A quelled fire was kept roaring inside her as she learned it was better to be seen and not heard.

"Mr. Fudge," Bellatrix would respond, her silver eyes glowering back at him from the deep depths of her cell. Half expectant of her to say anything more, he'd turn on the heel of his polished shoes and cross to the other inmate sharing Bellatrix's cool, reserved, sane manner. "Mr. Black," he'd say.

There was a piano in the Great Hall that she passed by every day. She was brave enough to sneak off and play it, but she never did. Because playing piano was an inner thing, a personal and private way of sorting with her habits. And now her aged fingers cascade over the keys, and with each riff of the music she looses herself once more in the calming music.  
  
"Mr. Fudge." Sirius would say, addressing Cornelius in a manner alarmingly like that of Bellatrix's. But unlike Belltrix, Fudge would stride away almost immeadiatly from Sirius's cell. He'd reach the area between the two on the end, and he'd alway say, "Birds of a feather stick together," but no - not today.

Forgotten, hidden, bridled passion and emotion expressed through her coordinated fingers draping over the aging keys. The music becomes faster and lower, but nonetheless beautiful as she continues. The sounds echo off the empty walls, but it's fine because no one can hear this music. Lucius is in Azkaban now and Draco is at school, she's a lonely woman in this large, empty home.

Sirius refuses to let Fudge make his customary closing statement, but rather calls out to him. "Oi, Fudge. Next time you come, bring the Prophet - I rather miss doing the crosswords." And Fudge is taken aback this one time, startled but responds in agreement, then quickly paces out, back into the sunlight.

And this was how she was meant to live, in the quiet of her own actions. A person with feelings that are better left never touched. The piano is old, and tired, and unused - and in this time she pours herself into the music and suddenly its not about Lucius and silence and beauty and trying to reverse age, not about missing her sisters fiercely or how sullenly disrespectful Draco is, not about the Dark Lord's rise which was illfated and illtimed. It's just her, Cissa, and a piano.

He's taunting her, for she used to do the Sunday crosswords and he'd tell her they were useless, pointless. The crosswords were from a time before the Dark side, though it was arguable the Blacks were always dark. The crosswords brought her a foolhardy happiness that she's never had again, though she'd deny that. And he knows her too well.

But then she rises, quickly, leaving the last faltered note to echo into the room. She steps back from the piano, knowing well what sin (in the eyes of Lucius and society) she's just commited. She snaps closed the cover and with a grand sweeping motion of her robes on the expensive floor, she leaves the empty room.

The two Black cousins, the only sane ones in Azkaban. Fudge brings the paper to Sirius the next visit and he calls through the bars to Bellatrix, teasing her.

"Hm, seven-letter word for backstabber."

"Sirius." she responds.

_"Nope, that's six letters."_

* * *

**Author's note: **Bellatrix's bit is set between Chamber and Prisoner when she, as well as her beloved cousin, graced Azkaban. And I timed Narcissa's later, but I suppose it could be translated the same age -- if Cissa was far older. Err I know nothing about pianos so if my facts were utterly wrong-- sorry? TABU board in Fictionalley Park inspired. One user says Cissa played piano and that there was a piano in the Great Hall but she chose to play in private. Another user says they "have no idea why, but they see Bella toasting marshmellows and doing the Sunday crossword." And was it not Sirius who asked Fudge for the paper cos he missed doing the crosswords? That is in accordance to Fudge himself, quoted from Prisoner of Azkaban. Kindof odd ending, but couldn't figure out a closing. Sue me. 

**_Review, please!_**


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